


Who now of all the Dancers...?

by Sandpipersummer



Category: The Charioteer - Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandpipersummer/pseuds/Sandpipersummer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months on, Ralph has some news for Laurie. (Contains reference to the not entirely unexpected death of another character)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who now of all the Dancers...?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from graffiti found on a Greek vase c. 725-735 BCE – 'who now of all the dancers plays most gracefully'.

In the end, it was Ralph who told him. He had been waiting months for the news, he realised, and it had come at the close of a particularly long day spent in Oxford, where he had been making final arrangements for the Michaelmas term. By the time the train pulled into Bridstow, hours late, he had a headache and his knee was beginning to play up. The slow journey back had exhausted him with its numerous unexplained shudderings and halts along the way and, once he was home, it was all he could do to collapse onto the settee and take the cup of tea Ralph had made for him.

Dave had only the details of the old place, Ralph said. Laurie nodded; they hadn't stayed there long before Ralph fixed them up with the flat, and Laurie had felt torn regarding the matter of telling Andrew their new address. He decided against it, eventually, leaving an empty space at the top of the letter and writing instead to explain about Bunny, and that what he had said about Laurie and Ralph was true. He knew he could no longer lie about the situation, feeling strangely sure on that point, if about nothing else, so he told Andrew that they were living together, too. His mind had been incredibly clear as he wrote, like one of those easy days in summer when blue skies arch heavenwards, cloudless and vaulting, and one feels as if the whole world can be seen in a single, glorious panorama, if only there were a mountain high enough to view it.

He hadn't cared to think too much about writing again after that. He knew, though, that by moving forwards with Ralph, he had to close the other door behind him, so that he could no longer be tempted into that comfortable, fantasy place where there had been no requirement for him face up to reality and what he wanted within that reality. Needed, in fact.

'Spud. Are you listening?'

'Yes. Sorry, it's just--'

'Of course, the shock. I understand.' Ralph disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two aspirin. 'Here, take these, you look done in.'

'I am a bit. I thought it would pass once I got away from that damn' train and out into the fresh air.'

'And instead, you get landed with this as soon as you step through the door.'

Ralph moved swiftly to the table in the corner and poured them each a shot of rum from a bottle that was still half full. Neither of them felt the need to drown themselves in it any more.

'It's not that so much,' murmured Laurie, unsure of his words at this point, the throbbing behind his eyes interfering with his ability to think.

'Anyway,' went on Ralph, briskly. 'He got in touch with the hospital, and luckily someone there knew that you were a friend of Alec's, so--'

'Hardly a friend!'

Ralph paused a moment before continuing. 'He told Alec and, naturally, Alec passed on the news.'

Laurie gazed across the small sitting room to the fire blazing in the grate, and tried to gather his thoughts. Without doubt, it was some kind of shock, and yet at the same time there was a certain inevitability about it. Much like the night he had come back to Ralph, and told the lie that wasn't a lie. He would have returned, once he'd worked it all out; he knew that now. Only, without Alec to push him, it would have been too late. Far too late.

'Look, Spud, if you'd rather be alone…' Ralph placed his glass carefully on the table.

Laurie looked up, sure of himself now. There were to be no more lies, by omission or otherwise, that much he had decided when he was discharged from hospital. 'Remember that day in your study?'

Sometimes Laurie would pick up a conversation they had had hours or even days earlier, and across Ralph's face would pass a momentary look of what might be considered confusion, had one been referring to anyone else. Today, however, there was no such uncertainty.

'What about it?'

Laurie stood up. 'You said the _Phaedrus_ wasn't real, that I wasn't to take it too seriously.'

'I remember.'

Laurie moved closer and reached out his hand to prevent Ralph from pouring them another drink. He wanted Ralph's full attention, and although he knew he had it despite the distraction of the rum, he wanted Ralph to see him say this, not just hear the words. 'Well, I think I did take it too seriously. You had gone away and I had nothing, only the book. You saw how worn it became, how many times I must have read it, absorbed it, believed it.'

Ralph nodded, an inscrutable look in his eyes as Laurie took hold of both his hands, running his thumbs over the soft, pale skin of one, and over the crude, red scars that ran up the side of the other.

'I believed in it too much, Ralph, that was the problem. When I went up to Oxford and met Charles, I thought that must be the only alternative to this wonderful world I had read about, and I didn't want it. And I didn't want the life I thought you were happy with when I first saw you again at Alec's party, either.'

'I know that, Spud, you don't have to explain.' Ralph tried to pull his hands away, but Laurie held on.

'I do, Ralph. I need to tell you that I didn't realise there was another option, one where I could love someone and be loved in return without all that unpleasantness, but with the beauty and the pleasure of what we have together.'

'Spuddy…'

This time, Laurie let Ralph free his hands, and watched him pour them another drink, handing one to Laurie before walking briskly over to the fireplace, and leaning his arm on the mantle above, before downing the swishy, brown liquid in one quick, sharp swallow.

Laurie sipped at his. 'I'm upset about Andrew, of course I am, but he almost seemed to want to die. Ever since he left the hospital and signed up with Dave in the East End, he couldn't wait to…' He shook his head.

Ralph gave him a quick look. 'Even so, Spuddy…'

Laurie left his glass on the table and walked across to the fireplace. 'It was only you, Ralph, when it came down to it. Only ever you.'

The fire flickered and coals shuffled in the grate, sinking low after a time, till there were only the hot, red embers hissing and sighing in the dark comfort of the now empty room. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked slowly as time moved inexorably forwards, night closing in on the flat, and enveloping the sleeping men in its protective cloak as the hours passed towards dawn.


End file.
